


Second Chance

by Kendrene



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6219874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kendrene/pseuds/Kendrene
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leliana has lost her Grey Warden lover at the hands of the Archdemon. She left Ferelden a broken woman and Divine Justinia, who offered her solace and a renewed purpose now lays dead among countless others. A Breach has torn the Veil and demons and abominations are spewing forth in to the human world- is everything lost or can Leliana find one who will save them all and mend her soul?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Time For Ideals

**Author's Note:**

> I had left this story alone for a while and now after a hiatus I am back at writing - I hope you will excuse any rustiness. I have been toying with the idea of what would happen if my Inquisitor were to fall in love with Leliana and what difference it would make to the events in Inquisition.
> 
> Mostly you'll recognize the events of Inquisition, but I may adapt them to the story I want to tell. The same goes for the dialogue- it is loosely inspired (and at times may be) the one you hear in the game- but not the same. Bioware owns everything but my Inquisitor, Leandra.
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated. Please note that English is not my first Language, so should you see any errors, please feel free to point them out. I always aim to improve.

**The Herald**

The wind cut like a blade against my cheeks and probed with icy fingers under my cloak. With an irritated sigh, I pulled it tighter around myself, but still could not suppress a shiver.

Haven bustled with activity around me, as I leaned, half-sitting against the table outside the requisition officer's tent. People came and went, scraping and bowing respectfully whenever I chanced to look at them.

_Those who actually meet my eyes and don't treat me like I truly am Andraste reborn._ I thought with a wry smile, that felt more like a grimace. Sooner or later some woman would bring me their infant child so I could impart them a benediction.

_And to think a little more than a month ago they were ready to hang me as the murderer of the Divine._

I could have escaped the awed looks and the attention by shutting myself into the small house I had been assigned as quarters, but then I would lose my perch, the best spot I had found where I could steal unobtrusive glances at the Inquisition's Spymaster. Gossip could be found anywhere around camp and rumor had it she had been an Orlesian bard perhaps even involved with the Empress herself, before casting her lot with Divine Justinia. I briefly wondered what a Divine would need one such as Leliana for, then decided I rather not know.

I did not know why I felt so intrigued by the secretive redhead. I just knew I could not help myself. She was the one who had stayed Cassandra's hand when, eaten by grief, the Seeker had been ready to strike me down. Maybe I felt like I owed her and was watching for the chance to repay the debt.

_Right, Leandra. That's all there is to it._

"You know Peaches, I have heard if you actually _talk_ to the people you are interested in, you increase your chances of interesting them back."

I jumped, biting back a startled yelp and found Varric leaning beside me. I felt my cheeks burn up with sudden embarassment. _Maker, have I been so absorbed in my study I didn't hear him approach?_

"Besides," he continued, crossing his arms over his barrel-like chest, "if you stare that hard she _is_ bound to notice."

I frowned down at him and he gave a deep chuckle, shaking his head. Apparently he was not so awed by the whole Herald deal that he would miss the chance to poke some fun.

"I wasn't staring," I feebly objected, hearing the lie in my own voice, "I was just... _looking_."

"I'll give it to you," he grinned, refusing to let the matter go, "she is a pretty thing to look at." I shifted uncomfortably and he relented. Barely, "but really, staring until your eyes fall off, won't get you anywhere."

He winked and grinned up at me, and I could not help returning the grin, despite the absurdity of the situation. "You are one to talk, dwarf. You got it easy, married as you are to your crossbow."

Varric threw his head back roaring with laughter. I couldn't help but like him. He was a rouge, honey-tongued and too clever by half and I knew he was around at the sufferance of the Seeker and that she had counseled me against trusting him, but he and I had more in common than she could ever imagine. I wasn't the black sheep of the Trevelyan clan for nothing. And we had plenty of shady characters in our history.

"You think my Bianca is as good natured as she looks? I dread what would happen were I not to lavish her with constant attention".

"I shouldn't be even having this conversation," I muttered, rubbing my eyes tiredly, "we have more pressing matters to attend to." I pressed my hand against my forehead and, as always, I could feel the Mark on my skin. It wasn't a raised scar or an open wound, but I just knew it was _there_. And as always when I was unwillingly reminded of its presence, it throbbed, shards of white hot pain snaking down my arm.

Varric must have seen me grimace, because he stretched a hand and awkwardly patted my back, his jests forgotten for a moment. I knew he meant well, but he didn't know the full extent of it. None of them did. Slowly I lowered my hand and raised my eyes skyward, to the ugly, pustule-like _thing_ that marred the Heavens. Sickly green light seemed to ooze down, from some sort of vortex, slowly revolving, mesmerizing in its wrongness. As any other time, when I let myself dwell on it, I fancied I could feel the Breach calling to me, drawing me in. With a shudder I tore my eyes away and thought back to the day we went to the Temple and attempted to close it for good. The voices I had heard in my head, screaming horrific things, pleading, enthralling, and underneath it all the blood curling screams of those lost in the Fade, playthings for demons and worse.

The Breach was a festering cut, it tore the Veil open, it made me feel disjointed like I was both here and on the other side at the same time. It stole my breath and made my heart thunder in my ears. I felt the same way with lesser Rifts, but not as strongly, not as if I could lose myself to them in the blink of an eye.

I was terrified and I could not tell anyone, because if the one person these people thought would protect them, admitted to fear... what did they have left then?

I felt the burden of responsibility weight down like a mountain on my shoulders and silently prayed it was true what they said of me, that I didn't bear the Mark because of a freak accident, but to reflect the will of the Maker, who had stretched his hand out to shelter us in this time of need.

I prayed I was the Herald, because the alternative was terrifying.

A sudden commotion near our Spymaster's tent drew my attention back to my surroundings. One of her people, her "eyes and ears" as she liked to call them, was reporting back to her, and even though I was far enough that I could not hear what was said over the din of the camps, I could tell by her furrowed brow and the hardening of her mouth, that it was not good news.

"I think," I said, pushing up from the table, my eyes fixed on the exchange, "whatever they are saying, I ought to hear too."

"Yes," Varric agreed slowly, "it does look like Red is ready to chew through nails."

I left him behind as I circled around one of the fires and approached the tent, keeping the flames and the smoke between me and its occupants. Leliana may have been a Master Bard, but I did have a few tricks up my sleeves and I certainly knew how to make myself inconspicuous.

The Spymaster and her agent were so engrossed in conversation that both failed to notice me as I drew within earshot. As I leaned against one of the tent's posts, I could tell that Leliana was distressed. And, oh, so angry.

Her blue eyes were hard chips of ice as she listened to the scout's report and the poor sod was keeping her own gaze firmly planted on the bard's boots as she relayed the information she had gathered.

_Can't really blame her,_ I mused in sympathy, _I would not want to be glared at so fiercely either._ I had heard people called Leliana, Sister Nightingale, but in that moment she looked to me more like an hawk, ready to swoop down on prey, and the huddling scout, a mouse.

I only caught the tail end of the report, but enough to understand that one of her people had played double agent, for whom I could not fathom, although the Inquisition had made plenty of enemies in such a short time and by association I had too.

_So many knives in the dark._ I closed my eyes for a moment and inwardly sighed. The constant scheming, the backstabbing, the not-so-veiled threats, seemed all too familiar to what had estranged me from my own kin. The Trevelyan were not as skilled in the Game as the basest of the Orlesian nobles, but they did love their intrigues well enough.

"You know what must be done," Leliana's usually soft Orlesian accent had hardened to a razor sharp edge "make it quick, painless if you can."

Her words, as cold as the wind howling through the camp, snapped me out of unpleasant memories and I stepped forward.

"What is going on here?"

Leliana rounded on me and I experienced the full force of her anger first hand. _Yep, should have kept my mouth shut._

"He murdered my agent," she spat, fury sharpening every word, "endangered my men!"

"And so you'd kill him, just like that?" I stepped forward myself, my tone equally challenging, my fists clenching. _Why am I so angry?,_ part of me wondered. _I do not know this man, or the one he killed. I should not care and yet..._ "You'd repay him with the same coin? What makes _you_ any better then?"

I could tell, as soon as those words left my mouth, that I had struck a nerve and I regretted my hastiness. I wanted to understand this woman, not hurt her, and yet I felt as if she was hardening herself against her nature, as if she had put on a mask and was unable now to show what lay underneath, if she even remembered at all. And so I challenged her on a decision that by any means should have not concerned me. I didn't rule here, I was but a means to an end, a key to fit into the Breach, to close it and then be forgotten when the deed was done.

I moved, putting her agent between me and her, to try and keep her off balance. Maybe the mask would slip and I would get a glimpse of the Leliana she _was,_ not the one she acted.

"You disapprove of my decision," the faltering was already gone, her composure outwardly regained but belied by the blue fire burning in her eyes. Her remark, half statement, half question held a note of curiosity.

"You propose murder," I countered, her scout trying to become invisible as she was caught between our warring glares, "are you going to solve all of our problems at knife's edge?"

"I do what must be done," her jaw clenched, she strode past her agent, and stopped so close to me I could have reached out and, and...

_And, what exactly Leandra?_

"I cannot afford the luxury of ideals at a time like this," she went on, her voice steel. I shook my head unwilling or unable to concede any ground to her argument.

"This is precisely the time for ideals!" My words were snarled more than spoken, "if not now that we walk on the edge of destruction then when?" I had moved again, pacing around her tent to vent part of my ire. "We are supposed to be righteous, but just! If we pursue our ends through evil means, how long will it take it to corrupt what we stand for?" I slammed my fist on her desk, hard. "I will _not_ have it!"

I rested my hand, palm down on the table to keep it from shaking and again felt the Mark throb harshly, digging into my flesh. For a moment, what remained of the Breach seemed to loom closer, overbearingly so, as my temples were sized by crushing agony and my vision swam. There were two Lelianas in the tent with me then, and the whispers from the Fade became louder, tearing at my consciousness.

The red haired woman moved closer, our quarrel forgotten as she laid a hand on my arm.

"Are you all right?" she asked, her voice softer, "you look... pale."

_They can't know!_ Frantically I tried to push away the queasiness and in doing so I took a step back, jerking my arm away. Was it hurt that flashed through her face for a second?

_Hasty. Always so hasty, Leandra._

I swallowed, my mouth dry and my tongue thick as if coated by sand.

"I am fine." I lied, not daring to meet her gaze again, for surely she would know that I wasn't telling the truth at all.

"You..." she stopped for a moment, frowning as if unsure how to continue, " you feel very strongly about this." She sighed wearily, her shoulders stooped as if the argument had drained her, "I will think of another way to deal with this man."

She turned to the scout then, her tone commanding again. "Apprehend Butler, but see he is...unharmed."

The scout bowed, a tad too hurriedly, and I could tell she was relieved to be away from the two of us.

"I have bothered you long enough Leliana." The dizziness receding, I didn't want to trip over my own tongue all over again and start another argument. If I had learned anything from our exchange, it was that we were both extremely stubborn. "I will leave you to your work."

"As you say," she nodded graciously, "we'll have time to talk later."

I retreated then, briskly walking away from her tent and the Chantry, my hand throbbing with every step, a stark reminder that our problems were far from solved. As I left, my mind already full of Mages and Templars and the choice we would have to make soon, I failed to notice Leliana was watching me go, speculation and worry mixing on her face.


	2. A Roll Of The Dice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Herald troubles Leliana and she seeks Josephine's counsel. Meanwhile, a course for the newly born Inquisition needs to be set

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always comments and kudos are welcomed. They really mean a lot. Rewriting this story is much more challenging than I thought.

**Scribbles**

 

I set the quill down carefully, and lifted the pounce pot, sprinkling some sand on the document to dry the ink. My eyes felt like there was as much sand in them as remained in the container, and I worked the strained muscles in my neck, tiredly.

Satisfied with my work, I folded the letter, and added it to the ever growing stack at my elbow, crossing out a name in my mind. I had been at it for days, writing to every last one of my contacts and every noble I was remotely acquainted to from my time serving the Antivan Crown, to gather support for the Inquisition. It was a dangerous, yet thrilling dance. Some would need cajoling to join our cause, others the promise of favors, while with a few only direct threats would work. Thanks to the Herald's deeds in the Hinterlands, we were gaining influence rapidly and many had started to consider us a force to be reckoned with.

The door to my study was opened violently and a gust of frigid air threatened to send my papers flying everywhere. Leliana stormed inside moments later, her blue eyes clouded.

She halted in front of my desk and glanced at the letters.

“I do not think we have enough ravens to send every last one of those,” she quipped.

I smiled, reassured that, despite her troubled face, my old friend had not lost any of her barbed sense of humor.

“Some can wait,” I replied, “they are addressed to noble families too far away to spend more than words of support on our behalf. Others I fear are a wasted effort, but I shall like it, if you will review them before they are sent.”

She sat down with a tired sigh and picked up the one I had just finished penning.

“The Revered Mothers in Val Royeaux? Now, _that’s_ wasted effort.” Her mouth turned down as if she had bitten on something sour, and she put the letter back with the Others.

“Leliana!” I chided, faking shock, “you should show more reverence for those that will choose the next Divine!”

She smirked. “They will take so long to elect one with all the bickering, that there is a good chance we will all die of old age before we see a new Divine.” To a casual listener the words would have sounded almost blasphemous, especially coming from Justinia’s Left Hand, but I knew Leliana uttered them with cause.

The Chantry was fractured, and all the factions seemed more worried about gathering power for themselves than addressing the election. It almost felt like they were postponing it on purpose, as they knew a new Divine would take the Chantry0s reins firmly back in her hands and the Revered Mothers seemed reluctant to cede command back.

I could excuse some of that behavior with the shock of the loss, but there were limits.

“Chancellor Roderick has worked very hard to poison that well for us,” she continued, “but if you wish to try, I will send the message.”

“Part of me wishes he would just leave for Val Royeaux,” I admitted, “but then he could do even more damage without us knowing before it is too late. Thanks to him, half the Chantry already thinks the Herald is a demon, or worse.”

She nodded sagely, then at the mention of Leandra, a mixture of sadness, anger and worry crossed her features.

“I wanted to talk to you about her,” she murmured, drumming her fingers on the desk, almost lost in thought. She seemed distressed, or bothered and I settled in to listen.

“What troubles you, Leliana?” I asked gently.

She leaned back and recounted her discussion with the Herald, in a few concise sentences. As she talked, she regained her composure and despite my scrutiny, her usual guarded demeanor was firmly back in place. Yet I had seen past it for a moment and I thought the worry she had displayed had less to do with Leandra questioning her decisions, and was far more personal in nature.

It was widely knows in certain circles that Leliana had had a prominent role in opposing the Archdemon that had threatened Ferelden, but few knew how close she had been to the Grey Warden who had given her own life as sacrifice to stop the Blight.

I clearly remembered the first time we had met, after so many years, when she had returned to Orlais. She had been shrouded in sorrow, lines of pain etched onto her face, and I had tried to offer solace how I could, taking her to balls and rekindling her interest in the Game.

I had heard the whispered conversations that she and the Grey Warden had been lovers, but I had not probed, as I could see the wound was too raw for something other than offered comfort. I would have taken her into my bed, as I had done when we were younger and perhaps more carefree, but her pain ran too deep to be soothed or forgotten with a few nights of pleasure, and I could not give her back the love that had been ripped away from her, leaving her empty.

Then, one day, Divine Justinia had called and Leliana had answered eagerly and gone to serve as her Left Hand. Rumor had flourished around her, running wild like a fire. Not all were aware of her role and she posed as a simple attendant, but speculation was enough that the Orlesian nobles, the most cunning at least, started taking notice of the redhead, of what she did when accompanying the Divine in public and, most of all, of the times she was absent from Justinia's side. The time at the Divine's court had hardened her, adding walls around a heart already broken by loss.

When I had felt enough time had passed, I had dared raise the subject with her and the ice in her voice as she dismissed my questions had chilled me. I remembered the conversation as if it had just happened. We had both been in Halamshiral, attending one of Empress Celine’s famous balls; I, as ambassador for Antiva, and she in Bard’s clothes, sent by the Divine to spy on some noble or other. I had found her on a solitary watch, on one of the balconies overlooking the gardens, splendid even in the dead of winter and, after we had talked about more mundane things, I had asked her about Kyra.

"Never mention her again, Josephine, " she had whispered, holding my gaze with burning eyes, as the light of the setting moon gave her face an otherworldly countenance, "never again."

I had felt threatened almost, and if I hadn’t be sure of the friendship we shared, I would have feared for my safety in that moment.

An involuntary shiver ran down my spine and I picked up a quill, toying with it to hide the uneasiness evoked by the memory.

“It troubles you that she questions your actions?” I inquired, more forcefully than I intended, perhaps to mask the sudden queasiness. “It is good that she is strong willed, or the Mark would have killed her already. She should be dead, by all accounts. Even Solas cannot explain how she survived.”

She rubbed at her eyes, then pressed fingers to her temples, drawing a harsh breath.

“I was hoping she would be more… _malleable_ to our guidance, “ she fastidiously picked at an imaginary speck of dirt on her sleeve, “what do you know of her family? Can they be used as leverage?”

I instinctively recognized she was playing the Game with me, diverting my attention towards my field of expertise, rather than admitting Leandra was getting under her skin for other reasons I could only guess at. No matter, there would be chances later on to probe her true motives. She had started to confide in me again, and I did not want the distance between us to grow again so I decided to play along.

“The Trevelyan clan is old, and its members numerous,” I took on a lecturing tone, “they originate in Ostwick, but have relatives in Nevarra and as far as the Imperium. They have plenty of connections with the Chantry in the Free Marches, but unfortunately it helps us little. That branch of the Church is regarded as far too progressive in Val Royeaux as you well know.” Leliana nodded her assent then asked;

“What of her more immediate family?”

I shrugged. “The topic has come up with Leandra a few times, but she seemed evasive and I felt it would be impolite to press her further. From the little she has told me, I would guess that she is not on the best of terms with them.”

I stopped and studied her, and the way the torches cast her face in flickering, ever changing shadows. Her eyes downcast, she appeared to be observing her hands, only half interested in my answers.

 The Herald seemed to be having an effect on Leliana and I had to admit to myself I was interested to see what would come from it.

 Before I could continue, we were interrupted by a brisk knock at the door.

 "There you are," Cassandra's harsh tones broke the sudden silence. "We are to discuss our plan of action, don't you remember? The Herald and Cullen are already at each other's throats," she added as she motioned us to stand and we were herded towards the War Room.

The Seeker forged ahead, leaving us to exchange a wondering look and, as she flung the door open, I could hear voices raised in argument. I sighed and dragged myself forward. I had no doubts the meeting would continue well into the night.

 

* * *

 

 

**The Nightingale**

Her voice drifted to me as I was crossing the threshold, hitting me like a fist in the stomach. How did she unhinge my carefully constructed façade so?

I wanted to harden myself against her. I had sworn, after Kyra's death, to never let anyone touch me the way she had, never let anyone past my defenses, and yet it seemed I could not help it. I saw in Leandra the same insistence in drawing a clear line between good and bad, that Kyra had shown so many times, and I was inevitably attracted to her, as I was a creature defined by shades of grey who craved nothing more than to be blinded by light.

 "The cavalry has arrived," she said, gesturing towards us, "maybe they will agree with you, Commander. " I regarded her carefully as she shot a dark look at Cullen. She seemed belligerent, one of her hands resting on the hilt of her sword. I had never seen her unarmed, except for when we had first brought her in after the explosion. Back then I had been ready to believe that she had murdered the Divine as Cassandra had, still a part of me had suffered at seeing her chained and so vulnerable and hurt. I had marveled at a feeling of compassion I had thought had died in Denerim.

We took our places around the table and for some reason I felt compelled to take the one next to her. I tried to convince myself it was because she seemed to share my concern for the rebellious mages and not for the other reasons that thrashed inside my chest. I was very aware of Cassandra's curious look.

Leandra's shoulders jerked in surprise before she could catch herself and I had to turn my face away quickly for a moment, lest she see my rueful smile. I took some consolation in the fact that I seemed to be having the same effect on her, that she was having on me.

Cullen cleared his throat, drawing my attention back to the ongoing discussion.

"As I was trying to explain to the Herald," he began, "approaching the Templars is our safest bet. They could easily channel their will through you," he pointedly looked at Leandra, "and boost the Mark with that energy to assist in closing the Breach. I was a Templar myself, I know what they are capable of."

She sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly, then squared her shoulders. It seemed their differing points of view had lead them to a standstill and judging by the circles around her eyes, they had been battling about that sore point for a good while before we arrived.

"I have already given my answer, Commander," she replied tersely, "and it has not changed in the past ten minutes."

"I would like to hear your thoughts Leandra," I interjected, echoed by the Seeker, “you seem to find fault with Cullen’s proposal.”

She darted me a glance, as if surprised I cared for her thoughts. I fought down the urge to tell her how much I did. What she had told me about my methods mere hours before had shaken me deeply, and I had started to wonder when exactly I had become so ruthless.

"I believe we should approach the Mages in Redcliffe, " she began, "First Enchanter Fiona invited us there and at least she is willing to listen. I seem to recall the Lord Seeker _punched_ one of the Revered Mothers." She tapped the map spread on the table we clustered around. “Besides leaving the rogue mages be weakens us. Marching on the Breach,” she grimaced and I felt some sympathy, “is like going to war and I do not wish to leave a potential enemy behind us.”

Cullen shook his head vehemently, "you would throw in our lot with Apostates, with... with deviants!"

Leandra shifted and I could see hurt in her eyes. She looked at me, then turned her gaze down and I saw her fist close spasmodically around her sword. She seemed on the brink of baring steel and demanding a duel.

"Cullen," I cautioned, but he ignored me, too caught up in his righteous prattle. “The mages can be…pacified by the Templars once we secure…”

"Cullen, enough! " My raised voice bounced against the walls, cutting him off short. He faltered, and they all looked at me surprised. Except Leandra's eyes, they seemed... _grateful._ My heart fluttered against my ribs.

Before I could say more, Leandra released the hold on her weapon and raised her hand so we could all see the Mark. It flared, bathing the room in spectral light and I saw her jaw harden in unspoken pain.

I felt anger mount inside me. She had lied to Cassandra about it not hurting anymore! My eyes narrowed, accusingly and when she caught my gaze she looked away quickly.

_why won't she share the burden...?_

I had barely given form to that thought when I understood. Kyra had behaved the same way, pushing past injury and pain to ensure the everyone else’s wellbeing. I closed my eyes, the sudden pressure of tears threatening to spill down my cheeks as I remembered her, shrugging off cuts that would have made more seasoned warriors break.

"Apostate." Leandra's soft whisper drew me back from the well of memory, "freak, _Abomination_ ," the Mark flared again, underlying her every word. The torches seemed to dim as it grew brighter, feeding on their light and casting its eerie glow on all those present.

"What does that make me then?" she asked.

"I did not mean to insinuate..." Cullen appeared contrite.

"Yes Commander, you did." Leandra waved his apology away, "and whether I like it or not, I am touched by magic. I hope for all our sakes the Maker saw our need and provided us with the means to avert this crisis, " she glanced at her hand thoughtfully for a long moment, then made a fist, hiding the Mark.

Its light gone, I found I could breathe easier.

"We can't afford to ignore the Mages. I am sure sooner or later someone will call me a demon because of the Mark anyway..."

"Some already do," Josephine admitted, squirming uncomfortably and the Herald smiled thinly.

"See Commander? Already they associate me... _us_ with magic. Best we show these people that the Inquisition can turn the Mages' path towards reason. If we re-establish order, the Templars will be forced to fall in line."

I nodded my agreement, "if the First Enchanter agrees to help close the Breach, the Templars will not want to be seen as idle fools, or even worse as cowards." Maybe Fiona would prove reasonable and it cost us nothing to set up a meeting with her.

"No more than they already are," Cassandra muttered, eliciting a grunt from Cullen.

"It pains me to say," the Seeker continued, grey eyes veiled by sadness, "that I do not know what Lord Seeker Lucius would do, if approached now," she crossed her arms as if cold, "he always was a just, pragmatic man, but now he acts _insane_." Her mouth curled around the word in distaste.

"Assessing Enchanter Fiona's intentions seems the wisest course, " Josephine volunteered, mirroring my thoughts, "We can hear her out at the very least and then decide if any of her terms can be met."

"Then what say you Herald?" Cassandra turned towards Leandra and we all looked to her expectantly.

"I say get ready," a determined expression came over her face, "we move out at first light."


	3. Just Before Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leliana looks for a moment of quiet to collect her thoughts, but Leandra's unexpected presence chips away at the armor she built around her heart after the Warden's death. A small expedition sets out towards Redcliffe to meet the mages. Is everything at it seems?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deeply apologize for the delay. Hopefully the next chapter will not take so long

**The Nightingale**

A sudden gust of wind, finding its way into the Chantry made the candles' flames flicker and hiss as they bent under the wintry touch. The building was quiet that early in the morning, Haven's denizens fast asleep as the velvet black of the night gave way unwillingly to the approaching dawn.Some called it the Witching Hour, as the sky turned a paler shade of black, but not quite gray and it was maybe the only time in Haven when activity was all but stopped.

  
I preferred to visit the chapel at this time, for I found, after a few moments of quiet contemplation, I could better focus on the tasks at hand.I stopped abruptly on my way to Andraste's statue however, as the same wind that had made the flames dance, brought the whisper of a prayer to my ears.

Who would brave the snow and the chill at this hour, to offer devotions?

I softened my steps, edging warily from shadow to shadow, afraid to disturb the soul seeking solace in meditation and yet irresistibly drawn forward by an unseen force, a pull like that which makes an object fall to the ground.  
I halted, half hidden, behind the last column prior to the altar.

_Leandra._

My breath half caught in my throat, hissing between my lips in a sigh of escaped surprise before I could press them together and I fervently prayed she hadn't heard.

  
"Maker," she was reciting, kneeling, head low, arms set across her chest, palms turned to her bosom as it sometimes used in the Free Marches, "my enemies are abundant. Many are those who rise up against me. But my faith sustains me; I shall not fear the legion, should they set themselves against me."

  
I stepped forward, compelled by the force of the conviction I felt in her voice.

My lips parted and i lost myself in the familiar words, heard so many times in my time at Lothering and etched into my heart.  
"Though all before me is shadow," my voice joined in, echoing hers, "Yet shall the Maker be my guide. I shall not be left to wander the drifting roads of the Beyond. For there is no darkness in the Maker's Light. And nothing that He has wrought shall be lost."

We let the quiet of the Chapel envelop us, and I felt myself drifting closer to her than ever before. I closed my eyes, memories of Kyra threatening to engulf me. We had used to pray like this many times before battle.  
Why do you remind me of her so? I wanted to ask.  
Again I tried to strengthen the walls I had so carefully constructed around myself, never to touch, to feel again so close to another.

I had so sworn that fateful day as I held the lifeless body of my beloved close to my chest and screamed my anguish to the heavens, full of grief as the rest of Ferelden rejoiced around me.  
Is it really what you want, Leliana? I asked myself. If I was being honest, the nights had gotten more and more lonely, the solitude hard to bear and the absence of a companion keenly felt in the moments when I faltered and strayed from my course. I had felt myself growing desperate and the pain of unshed tears had become harder to hide as my bed grew colder and colder.

"Leliana," her voice was a gentle caress, my name spoken in such a way I could feel the emotion behind it. Still, maybe mine was naught but wishful thinking. She stood, this woman that, for the life of me, I still could not figure out, and she turned towards me.

"I hope I did not intrude," I murmured as she approached.

"Not at all," she smiled then bent down to recover a bundle I had not noticed, enticed as I had been by her. She quickly undid the strings holding it together and it turned out to be a cloak, containing her weapons. As she busied herself with fastening her sword belt, I could take my time in studying her. Leandra's eyes caught the light in the most peculiar way, the blue so deep it seemed to glow from within. I was close enough to pick out the flecks of gold around her irises even as her gaze was drawn downward to what she was doing.

  
Such peculiar eyes.

I had never seen eyes like hers before, in such an unremarkable face. Pretty nonetheless, but normal enough it would easily get lost in a crowd.

Except for those eyes.

They completely transformed her, made her beautiful. I swallowed, suddenly conscious of the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Going somewhere?" I realised she had been studying me in return, taking in the fact I too was armed and had eschewed the mauve cloak I usually wore for a forest green one.

"I thought I would accompany the scouts I assigned you to Redcliffe, " I carefully said, as we started walking towards the Chantry's doors.

I stole a glance at her face, gauging her reaction.  
"Oh?" She had raised an eyebrow and a slight smile was playing on her lips. "What happened to your people being your eyes on the field? "

I shrugged, returning the smile, "figured I would take a look at these rebel Mages for myself."

She made a noncommittal sound and held the door open for me. Early morning light spilled into the building and i could take a better look at her equipment. She wore a sword on each hip, wicked things with well worn leather hilts. One was noticeably shorter than the other, more of a broad bladed dagger, judging by the shape of the sheath, than a sword proper. My interest piqued as, from those weapons, I recognised she must have been trained in the duelists' school of swordfight. That style was still fairly used in Orlais, especially to settle disputes at Court, but the best duelist I had ever met, lay dead by my own hand.

Marjolaine had been a cruel, unfeeling fighter. She had delighted in toying with her adversaries, but somehow I could not see Leandra being the same. Her armor was mostly leather, with mail inserts on the joints and chest and metal plates over her shoulders and shins. The metal had been dulled with dirt to reduce its glint and her cloak was a motley ensemble of patches to mimic the color patterns of woodland.

Outside, a small group had gathered, to the jingle of harness and the swearing that usually accompanied last minute preparations.

Cassandra walked briskly towards us, her jaw grimly set.

"I do not like what you have in mind Leandra. Not one bit." She seemed to bite off every word.

"You don't have to like it, Seeker. Besides, may I remind you that you agreed to this no later than last night?"

Cassandra pressed her lips together, but appeared slightly mollified when she continued:

"Cullen would still like to send more men."

Leandra chuckled. "I am sure he'd round up a whole company given half the chance. That's why we are leaving so bloody early." She turned her gaze towards the small band now orderly arranged in two neat files of horse, "the Chargers will be enough."

I cleared my throat to get their attention.  
"Either of you care to explain?"

Leandra nodded and I saw a change come over her. She is a born leader, I realized as she beckoned Iron Bull and his lieutenant Cremisius over with a curt gesture.

"Your scout leader?"

I nodded, motioning discreetly for Scout Harding to join our little group.

"Harding!" Leandra's face broke into a wide grin, "long time no see!"

The dwarven woman laughed "you never write anymore ma'am. "

"You wound me, Harding, deeply so."

I felt a pang of jealousy at the easy camaraderie.

_Don't be an idiot, Leliana. I chided myself._

The Herald reached down to a small leather case strapped to her thigh and pulled out a tightly rolled parchment.  
"Our work in the Hinterlands has dampened down the fighting between rogue Mages and Templars considerably," she began, spreading the map out for all to see, "the area around the Crossroads is pretty much secure," she turned to Cassandra,

"Seeker, if you will?"

"There is still some Templar activity further west, but it should be of no consequence. I have ordered some of our forces to increase the patrols in that direction, which should keep the rebel knights out of our hair, so to speak."

"The Chargers will take the Redcliffe road up to the town's walls," Leandra resumed, "Cassandra is officially acting as the Inquisition's agent sent to parley with the Mages,"

"You don't want them to know you are taking a direct interest, " I said slowly.

The Seeker nodded. "Not until she is inside the walls."

"That is why we," Leandra's gaze seemed to linger on me, but I told myself she was including the Scout as well, "will parallel the main force's route through the woods."

"And send any trouble our way," Iron Bull's grin was that of a wolf among sheep.

"Hopefully there will be none," Leandra replied, before briskly rolling up the map and walking to her mount.

I followed, as the others dispersed and grabbed her arm before she could hoist herself onto the saddle.

"You suspect foul play," it was not a question.

"I always do." My grip tightened involuntarily, but this time she did not pull herself away.

"If you do, why go at all?" I challenged, "you have people that would gladly go in your stead."

_Me included._

She shook her head, then not unkindly grasped my hand and moved it so she could swing up on her horse.  
Not to be denied so easily, I held onto her stirrup. She sighed wearily, "we all do what we must, yes? This is my duty and I will not shied from it."

  
I held her gaze, one more question burning on my lips, doubt heavy in my heart.

"Why was I not consulted?" My voice was laced with anger as I put my fear into words, "do you not trust my counsel?"

Her face was painted over with shock, almost horrified at the suggestion.

_She didn't realise how it all would look?_ I mused, surprised myself. Part of me wanted to slap her.  
"I feel some of my past remarks may have caused offence, Leliana," her tone almost timid, "that is why I submitted my plan to the Seeker and Commander Cullen, but not you."

  
Leandra bent down then, her hand outstretched before she could check herself. She let her arm drop.  
It had almost looked like she had been about to cup my face. I couldn't honestly say I would have minded.

"Believe me when I say that I trust you so, I would place my life in your hands." Her voice was barely above a whisper, her eyes full of sadness. Or was it longing?

_You would like that, wouldn't you._

I stared, taken aback by her bluntness. I realized my grip on her saddle had grown so tight a dull ache was spreading down my arm.  
"We need to talk," I closed my eyes for a moment, my own whisper choked with emotion. About what? How she reminded me of a dead lover? How I ached for contact and yet abhorred the idea of letting someone close again? It felt however, I could not keep the maelstrom of emotions inside any longer. As I uttered those words, a tension that had been there for weeks and I had so far tried to ignore seemed to find its release.

  
"We do," her gaze hadn't wavered from me, "let us deal with the Mages and then we will."

She spurred her horse forward then, and I had no choice but to follow.


End file.
